


if you don’t mind, i’ll walk that line

by casualwordsmith (perksofbeingabandmember)



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: FGLI Student Struggles, Gen, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Not Canon Compliant, Panic Attacks, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-18 18:40:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29613732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perksofbeingabandmember/pseuds/casualwordsmith
Summary: It's 3 am on a Wednesday, and Will has been staring at the wood of the bunk above his head for the last two hours.or; dex is struggling with a lot. nursey helps.
Relationships: Derek "Nursey" Nurse & William "Dex" Poindexter, Derek "Nursey" Nurse/William "Dex" Poindexter
Comments: 8
Kudos: 94





	if you don’t mind, i’ll walk that line

**Author's Note:**

> hey all! this fic is inspired by troye sivan's "talk me down", which is the source for the title as well.  
> the rating is for a lot of swearing and brief use of the f-slur by a character offscreen, and as the tags state, there is detailed description of a panic/anxiety attack and the character's internal thoughts before and during it. based on my personal experiences, which i'm sure are not universal.  
> this is the first fic i've written since middle school, which was a good bit ago, so please be kind <333  
> much appreciation to the icons who beta-read this for me, @sol52 and frankie (whose ao3 i do not know, but is still an icon nonetheless)  
> hope you enjoy!
> 
> edit: "you can play" is an organization advocating for the idea that queer athletes have a place in sports, especially hockey. they partner with a lot of professional and university level teams.

It's 3 am on a Wednesday, and Will has been staring at the wood of the bunk above his head for the last two hours. The Haus is quiet for once, save for Nursey’s snoring, but that’s a given. He learned that a week into rooming with the guy, and that was six months ago. The night outside is quiet too – the only noise is the barely there sound of the soft snowfall typical for Massachusetts in February. 

He should be asleep. He has to get up for practice in 3 hours. 

Unfortunately, Will’s mind isn’t nearly as quiet as his surroundings tonight – seems it never got the otherwise universal memo to shut the fuck up. He keeps picturing the texts he received from his brother earlier that day telling him that they “needed to talk” after his “You Can Play” Facebook post got too much for Brady to deal with _(the “damn, Billy, you some kind of fag now? what the hell has that school done to you?” made him stop in the middle of his problem sets to spiral, and he still hasn’t responded);_ keeps internally playing back his last phone call with his mom, where she told him that if he “could spare any of that scholarship reimbursement you said you’d get this quarter, Billy, it’d really help pay for your pap’s medical bills''. The bright screen of the Canvas gradebook for his Comp Sci class appears behind his eyelids, along with a high-definition highlight reel of all the ways he fucked up their last game on Saturday. 

He turns over.

He needs to figure out damage control with Brady, make sure he doesn’t say anything to their mom. He needs to figure out a way to pick up more hours at both Annie's and the student IT desk, his mom and pap need the extra money. He needs to figure out shit with financial aid. 

He turns over again.

He needs to figure out how to get to office hours for Comp Sci more, his grade is suffering, but they’re during his Calc class. He needs to figure out how to stop fucking up his puck steals so he doesn’t let so damn many go, and coordinate with Nursey better on the ice before he fucks something up big time. He needs to figure out how to not fuck something up big time for once in his life – how to not be an “abomination” for his family, or worse, a disappointment, how to not be even more of a selfish bastard than he already is for leaving by falling through when they need him most, how to not make them regret all of their sacrifices for his education…

He can see it down, worst-case scenarios swirling through his head rapidfire, like someone made a flipbook of his worst nightmares. His mother, his brother, his grandfather, his professors, his team, his friends – he’s disappointed everyone, and now he’s alone.

He needs to figure out how to start breathing again. 

Suddenly the room is a lot less quiet and peaceful, the sound of his breathing filling the air the same way his thoughts are filling his head and drowning him out. He knows he needs to stop, to reassess and calm down, but can’t figure out how to keep his body and brain on the same page long enough to make that happen. 

The bunk shakes, but Will doesn’t look up from where he is, can’t make his head turn away from the corner of the bunk that he’s currently staring at. 

A hand grabs his and unclenches it from where his nails were digging into his palm. He knows it must be Nurse, but can’t bring himself to care. 

“Hey, Dex. Hey. Breathe with me for a second, ok? You can hear me, you’re going to be fine. it’s going to be okay, you’re just having a panic attack. Or anxiety attack... either way, you’re okay and safe.”

Will was right, it is Nurse. Well, at least Nursey should know how to help, the part of Will's brain that is currently cooperating vaguely remembers him talking to Chowder about anxiety before. Even just the physical contact of Nursey’s hand in his is already helping ground him. He's not alone, someone cares. 

He hears Nursey mutter, “Okay, fuck, uh. This usually works for when Mom does it for you, so fuck it, here we go.” 

“Can you talk? If you can, tell me five things that you can see.”

Will’s heard about this exercise before, but never tried it personally. Here goes nothing, though. 

He croaks out an affirmative, his throat raw from his heavy breathing. 

“Yeah, uh. I can see your bunk, the. The wood grain. I can see the stupid flowers you drew on the wood with Sharpie to piss me off. I can see the spot on the wall that I still need to fucking fix, where the paint is chipping.” He forces himself to turn his head towards Nurse. “I can see you, obviously. I can see the moonlight.” 

“Right, that’s five.” Nursey responds, his voice calm but betraying what sounds like a little bit of relief regardless. “Next is four things you can feel.”

Will is suddenly hyper aware of the textures around him. He can’t decide if that’s a good thing or not, it’s sensory overload regardless. The weight of Nursey’s palm in his, his presence beside him confusing and comforting in equal measure. The thickness of the quilt his mom made him before he left for college. The cold air, because the Haus windows need an upgrade and can only keep out so much. The roughness of the paint on the wall he’s laying against. But he doesn’t say all that. Instead, he says:

“Your hand, the blanket, the cold, the wall.”

Nursey takes that answer, thankfully, and continues on, his volume increasing as his growing relief at the continued responses becomes audible. “Three things you can hear?” 

Will props himself up on his arm before shooting a disdainful look Nursey’s way. “Your voice, loud as fuck. Quiet down, Nurse, you’re gonna wake Chowder. Also, the wind outside and the creaking of the bed.”

Nursey laughs, almost startled. “Chill, Poindexter, he sleeps like the dead. I guess if you can chirp me, you’re almost back to your usual levels of dickhead. Still gonna go through the rest of this, though. Not taking chances. Two things you can smell?” 

The cocoa butter you put on before bed and the sweet almond oil that you use on your hair – you got annoyed with me when I picked up the bottle to read the label once when we first moved in, Will thinks. 

“You,” Will says. 

Nursey is quiet for a beat. “That’s one.”

“My shampoo on my pillow. There, that’s two. Happy now?” 

Nursey gives him a Look (tm), but it’s soft in a way Will can’t explain. “Alright, no need to be snappy. Yeah, that’s chill. Almost done – one thing you can taste.”

“Can’t really taste anything specific, mouth is too dry for that. My toothpaste, I guess?” 

Nursey makes a noise of sympathy and, without letting go of his hand, reaches and grabs his water bottle from the dresser next to the bunk bed. 

“Here. Drink up, this’ll help with the dryness and taste. Also, sit up and move your ass over.”

He still feels like shit and doesn’t really know what Nursey is planning, but does it anyway, too tired to seriously argue. 

Nursey sits down next to him, both now sitting cross-legged on Will’s bunk. 

They sit together in the quiet for a moment, and then Will hears Nursey deeply inhale and open his mouth. 

“So, what was that?” After a raised eyebrow from Will, he continues on. “Obviously an anxiety attack, I'm not blind, and I get them too. I mean… well. Do you want to talk about it?”

Will shifts, suddenly feeling exposed in a way he wasn’t a minute before. “Not exactly, Nurse. You wouldn’t understand.”

“That's fine, but… either you talk to me now or I'm walking you to campus counseling after practice today. Have you even ever had an anxiety attack before?” 

Will wants to scratch his skin off or wring his hands or do something, anything to get rid of the gnawing desire to run that that situation fills him with. He settles on biting his nails, already bitten to the quick, but better than nothing. Campus counseling – that was the last thing he wanted or had time for. At least if he talked to Nursey now, there wasn’t going to be a record of it, and he didn’t have to waste time when he could be working. Nursey probably wouldn’t be a dick. They’d been making progress on that lately, with uneasy truces turning easier after poetry readings or set builds attended, ground rules created, and train rides to Boston for Lardo’s biweekly showcases in a local coffee shop spent alone together.

“Okay, fine, you win. No campus counseling. I guess it counts as an anxiety attack – I don’t have a diagnosis or any of that stuff. They’ve happened a couple times before, but usually I just wait it out by myself. It stops eventually.” Will hesitates for a beat, unsure if this will upset the tenuous balance that they’ve struck, but continues. “It was… nice, though. Having someone help this time. Made it end faster, so... thank you.” 

Nursey squeezes the hand that Will didn’t even register he was still holding. “‘Course, bro. It’s chill, nbd.”

Will looks at him incredulously. “Did you just say “nbd” out loud?? The letters?? Aren’t you supposed to be the one here uptight about grammar and language and whatever, with your whole… English major thing?” 

Nursey gives a crooked smile that evokes… something that is an issue for future Will, current Will has enough to deal with. “English is subjective, and grammar is elitist. Haven’t you seen e.e. cumming’s work? That formatting is mad weird, and he’s an acclaimed poet. Bet he’d say nbd out loud.” He looks away and clears his throat. “Anyway, it distracted you for a second from what you’re dealing with. Which... what’s going on, dude?”

Will tenses again and turns his head away, which was inevitable. He’s usually in a constant state of tension these days. 

“Well, my older brother saw the post I made on Facebook for Samwell’s “You Can Play” campaign and immediately jumped to conclusions. Were his conclusions correct? Maybe so, but he doesn’t need to know that. He confronted me about it and was a bigoted shitbag, but it doesn’t seem like he’s said anything to my mom yet. I have to make sure he doesn’t, and convince him that his conclusions were wrong if I can.

He runs his fingers through his hair with one hand as if he wants to tear it out, before he forces himself to stop and breathe.

“My mom needs me to send money back to help pay for my grandfather’s dialysis expenses, but I’m not getting a refund from the school this quarter from my scholarship like I said I was. Living in the Haus is supposed to be cheaper than dorms and thus give me some overhead, but financial aid and housing aren’t communicating right and it’s fucking me over. So I’m gonna have to pick up more shifts at Annie's and the tech desk for money to send home. 

The hand that was previously in his hair is now grasping at the covers next to him instead. 

“My Comp Sci grade is shit right now after last week’s midterm, and I’m really struggling finding enough time to do and understand all the work. I can't go to office hours because I have another class at the same time. Oh, and I keep losing pucks, Coach has been on me about my stick work, and I can’t seem to communicate with the rest of you guys on the ice. 

“So. Yeah. I guess you could say I have a lot going on,” he finishes his rant with a wry twist to his lips and an exhale that releases more exhaustion than air. 

After a few moments of silence pass, Will turns back to see a slightly speechless Nursey visibly processing the information just dumped on him. 

“Okay, so. First, your brother made... conclusions about you because of your YCP post?? Like, gay conclusions??? And those conclusions were… You’re– why didn’t you ever say, even when I– fuck. Y’know what, that’s probably not helpful right now, we’re tabling that, it’s fine. I’m so sorry that your brother is a piece of shit, that fucking sucks.” He rubs at his face as if trying to get rid of the mix of emotions there that Will can’t quite decipher. “Second, well. Fuck, Dex. You have to send money to your family? I–“

Nope. “Nurse. Just stop there.” Will cuts him off. “I don’t have the energy to talk about money shit with you tonight, and I don’t need a point by point response. You can’t fix my shit, and I don't want you to. Just listening was more than enough.” 

He can tell that Nursey wasn’t really satisfied by that, but he seems like he’s not going to push the issue. That alone shows how far they’ve come – a few months ago, both of them would have pushed until something snapped.

“Alright, well. Just. Let me know if I can ever spot you for Annie’s or pizza or fines, or if you want to do the... duck thing? with me for your Comp Sci.”

That is not a sequence of words Will ever expected he’d hear Nursey say. What the hell is a “duck thing”, did Nursey want a computer generated duck call or some shit now? “If I want to do the _what_ with you?”

“The rubber duck debugging thing. Where you explain your code back to a rubber duck and it helps you find errors? I dunno man, I heard about it from a Tumblr post.” He pauses. “Give me shit for the Tumblr thing, I dare you.”

“Ohhh, I know what you mean now. That makes…. way more sense than anything I could have thought up based on that phrasing. Don’t ask or–” He huffs when he sees Nursey start to get a mischievous look on his face and elbows him. “ _Hey,_ stop doing that wiggly eyebrow thing, I don’t even really know what I was thinking of, and it certainly wasn’t worthy of the “oooh, deets'' brows. But... thank you, I…” Will shifts slightly, not used to thanking Nursey this much. Or being this personal with Nursey, or this physically close to Nursey off the ice... “I appreciate that. Probably won’t ever take you up on the offer to spot me-”

“Because you’re a stubborn bastard?”

“Shut up and let me thank you while I still want to and I’m too tired to get upset with you for offering to pay for shit. _Like I was saying,_ probably won’t ever take you up on the offer to spot me, but I appreciate it nonetheless.”

They share a momentary smile, Nursey’s smile wide and warm in contrast to Will’s soft and tentative one. Another gust of air hits the window and breaks the silence, some of the cold air making its way in through the old frame and causing even more of a chill in the room. Both boys shiver, and Will feels Nursey let go of his hand _(holy shit, he wonders, how were our hands still like that?)_ to stand and grab a fuzzy blanket from his bunk. He plops back down on the bottom bunk, purposely jostling Will and leaving him with little to no personal space.

“Sorry,” Nursey says, not looking sorry in the slightest with a shit-eating grin and a sparkle in his eye. “You know me, so clumsy.”

Nursey grabs one side of the blanket and brings it around Will, pulling the other side around himself after. Will would be a little more annoyed _(probably, he thinks, but maybe not recently…)_ if it wasn’t so damn cold and Nursey wasn’t so damn warm and he wasn’t so damn tired. Even so, he begins to put up a token protest. 

“Nurse, what are you-”

Nursey makes an exaggerated shh-ing gesture against Will’s lips with his finger. “Shh, calm down. It’s freezing, we both have to be up for practice in like, 2 hours. I’m too lazy to climb back up to the top bunk, and skin to skin contact always helps me after an anxiety attack. Just deal with it and lie down.”

Will internally weighs his options for a minute as he looks at Nursey. Nursey and his hopeful face that the moonlight turns ethereal, that one look promising so much – perhaps more than he can bear. Option one is he kicks Nursey out of his bunk, but, well. That means that Nursey wouldn’t be there. Also, it’s cold. Or, option two: let Nursey stay, and… hope that this doesn’t become another problem on his list. 

Option two it is, then. He lies down quietly, without protest, and Nursey follows suit behind him. 

“Hey Dex,” Nursey softly ventures after a minute of them both anxiously shifting around, “I normally would say ‘don’t pull any straight guy no-homo bullshit’ in this scenario, but.. I guess I don’t need to, huh?” 

Will stills. He can’t deal with that discussion right now. “Nurse. I… Shut up and stay still. Goodnight.” 

“I mean, I just wanted to channel Shitty with the ‘thank you for trusting me with this moment’ here…”

“Good _night_ , Nurse.”

“Goodnight, Poindexter.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to everyone who read this far, hope you enjoyed it :')


End file.
